I passed by our favorite
café today morning
the place
where food was uninspiring
and the ever-smiling
steward was
Intimidating
while nice,
wanting us to
leave
as soon as we
were done
our strategy
was different, however
we couldn’t
leave
In a
conversation vacuum
that place had
an art gallery
although the
art on display
was to an
extent, incorrigible
and dark, kind
of clumsy
or many a
times, superficial
the art
gallery is still there
so is the
steward
the only thing
missing
is you and me,
talking
over the same
uninspiring food
your voice was
invigorating nevertheless
I used to
watch you eat,
while talking
continuously
those
infectious voices
loom large in
my clever emotive mind
the sounds of
cutlery, the cafe music,
the winter
afternoons, your presence
all of it
certainly,
in the
complete histrionics
Is what the
heart transpired
in all its
innuendos
all of the
last month and more
Your voice in
all its trajectory
leads me on
to our
freaking friendly banter
In the noises
of outwardly discord
your pristine
vulnerabilities shine through
I miss your infectious
laughter,
that
flamboyant spark
which no one
can claim to have
but you
there may be
disarray
or disharmony
of thoughts and ideals
but exclusive
time
that I had
spent with you
is like a
movie being played
a beautiful
movie
of innocence,
sobriety, naivety
and
serendipity with some bossa nova jazz
as our background score
missing you is
another space
where even
“you” does not matter
it is an empty
feeling that someone feels
even after a
sumptuous dinner with a decadent dessert
This poem, the words and the rhythm stay on the mind. Many days, still!
ReplyDeleteA very pleasant one sir.
ReplyDelete